


It Isn't Perverted If It's With Your Spouse

by DallonR



Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Character(s), Alien Gender/Sexuality, Alien Romance, Alien Sex, Alien/Human Relationships, Andalites, Bisexual Male Character, Boys In Love, Canon Bisexual Character, Consent, Declarations Of Love, Dorks in Love, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, Explicit Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Flashbacks, Fluff and Smut, Gay Sex, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, Happy, Happy Sex, I Love You, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Sex, Long Hair, Love, M/M, Married Couple, Married Sex, Morning Sex, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV First Person, POV Male Character, Pillow Talk, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Sexual Fantasy, Tags Are Hard, Telepathy, Tentacle Dick, The Author Regrets Nothing, Trans Male Character, Trans Marco, True Love, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Wolf Sex, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:35:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25603672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DallonR/pseuds/DallonR
Summary: Marco and Ax are married. They love each other so much. Thought speech is better than spoken speech. Marco has long hair. The last part isn't mentioned explicitly, but it is there.There will never be enough explicit Marco/Ax smut where neither of them are in morph, so I'm being the change I wish to see in the world.
Relationships: Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill/Marco (Animorphs)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	It Isn't Perverted If It's With Your Spouse

**Author's Note:**

> Regarding the weird tags: the wolf sex is only mentioned / suggested in passing. The flashbacks are vague, brief, and pleasant. The pillow talk is a joke about Star Wars. If you prefer to think of Marco as having a penis instead of a vagina, feel free to ignore the 'vaginal sex' tag and mentally replace it with 'anal sex'.
> 
> I might write a follow-up later. Maybe multiple. We shall see.
> 
> And now for my headcanons: Andalite genitals are located beneath their waists, not near their tails. Marco is a trans man who refers to his genitals as a c**k etc. If neither of those appeal to you, then... I mean... why not? Give it a shot? You're welcome.

For someone who only ever has a mouth for maybe an average of a few hours a week, Ax is _fantastic_ with his.

Sure, he gives great head; he explores with his lips, tongue, teeth, even his chin and cheeks and nose. But he also loves giving me hickies, especially since I can choose to get rid of them if I ever need to.

I hate when I _have_ to morph when I still have bruises from making love with Ax.

Oh, don't get me wrong; there's plenty of fucking, as well. But part of being in a mixed-species relationship is making allowances where you can, and putting in the work to accept what you can't compromise on.

And I had _no issues_ with being fucked by my husband while I was in my custom Andalite morph and he was in nothing but what he was born in.

From there, it got a little more... creative. I dare any one of you to not say 'okay maybe just once' after a few instances of being _so close_ to both an orgasm _and_ being stuck in a morph.

If I give up morphing, I want it to be fully planned out, not just a spur of the moment decision based on my proximity to a climax.

Andalite sex is incredible, by the way. Without mouths, their fingers do all the kissing. Seven long, dainty fingers on each hand, touching you with the dexterity of a set of digits raised on touch screens and thought-speech commands, not a callus in sight. Nimble dances along skin, soft as a whisper, all the while thought-speech images and feelings and concepts pour into your mind in a controlled stream of bliss, feeding on your responses, both physical and mental. And that's just the foreplay.

I could probably write a Morphers' Kama Sutra, with the kinds of things Ax and I have gotten up to. But of all the wild configurations, I still prefer how we are in the mornings, when we wake up curled around each other in our scoop, the radio playing my favorite morning program, his hands kissing my face, shoulders, chest, back...

His fingers are incredible. And when the morning sun illuminates his fur, glossy and longer than he says is respectable in Andalite society for a male, I fall in love with him all over.

Not that it's hard to do. The way his eye stalks curl when he comes up with a bad pun, the quiver in his tail when I kiss him behind the ears, the way his slim fingers fit so well between mine, even if there are a few extras on his side of things...

"I love you," I say to him, my voice croaky from sleep.

<I love you too,> Ax says. His tail blade rests atop my shoulder, warm in a way that somehow always surprises me. It's too easy to think of it as a weapon instead of as a part of his living body. Hair being warm doesn't surprise me, so why should this?

"Do you have work today?" I ask.

<No,> he answers. Then, he asks with a teasing, innuendo-laden tone of thought, <Why?>

I shrug and cuddle closer against his chest. "Because I have today off, and I was thinking we could..."

I'm flooded with thoughts of us fucking, making love, getting nasty, all of it.

"Or that," I say.

<Was I mistaken?> Ax asks, a tinge of worry coloring the thought.

"I was _going_ to say... going for a hike... or a swim..."

Ax sends one image, the two of us fucking as wolves in the forest. It's almost a memory of the first time we ever had sex, only his teeth are in the ruff at the back of my neck, and he didn't do that the first time.

"You really have something on your mind, don't you, Ax-man?"

<I have making love to you on my mind, yes,> he says.

I shiver and smile. "Have I mentioned that I love you?"

<Sixty-seven of your earth seconds ago,> he says.

"How do you want to do it, this fine morning?" I ask.

Ax rolls over onto his back, beckoning me to straddle him just above his forelegs.

<I want you to ride me,> Ax says.

I chuckle and turn his face to mine, kissing his chin while my fingers stroke his jaw. "What happened to foreplay?" I tease him.

<Who implied there would not be any?>

Ax's fingers find my cock with unerring accuracy, soft fingertips drawing forth my arousal until his fingertips are coated with slick and I'm panting out short, harsh breaths.

I'm glad Ax convinced me to abandon pajamas when it's just us two. I hate having to pause long enough to get out of my boxers when all I want to do is _him_.

<You smell so appealing,> Ax says. <Were I an _estreen_ , I would delight in tasting you with a human mouth while kissing you with my own hands.>

"Fuck, Ax, your dirty talk is so ridiculous," I say. I hope it's clear how very effective it is, though.

Ax runs his fingertips along me like he's playing Spanish guitar between my legs, and I whimper with the effort of not climaxing already.

<Do you want me inside you?> Ax teases. He knows I do.

"Please, Ax," I reply. "Please fuck me."

Ax grins with his eyes, then slips two thin fingers into me. It's not what I meant, but I'm not complaining.

<So warm, and soft, and tight, and slick,> he says, and I'm not sure if he's just thinking out loud or not.

...For certain definitions of 'out loud'.

"Fuck, Ax," I gasp. "Thought you wanted... me to ride you."

<I do,> Ax says. <My patience has not yet approached its limits.>

He finger-fucks me more, until I'm sure he can feel how close I am.

"Ax, you gotta stop, or I'll..."

<Let me feel you climax around my fingers, Marco-kala,> he says. <It will not be the last I give you this morning.>

He had me at my name. My legs shake with the effort of not crushing his forearm between my thighs, and I go to cover my own mouth, but his free hand grabs my wrist, and even though I could easily overpower his grip, he doesn't need strength to stop me.

<I desire all the sounds of your ecstasy,> he says.

"Fuck!" I whimper. "Axi...mili...-kala... ah!"

He crooks his fingers and presses against the spot inside me that sends me into outer space, making me feel weightless, breathless, blinded by stars.

When I return to my body, I realize his other hand is trapped in a vicious grip, fingers laced with my own. I try to relax my hand, but it's not a conscious action I can just stop.

"Sorry, I... can't let go..."

Ax draws his fingers from within me and smiles in a way that makes me imagine his nonexistent mouth on my cock.

He brings his arousal-coated fingers to his face and sniffs, the flaring of his nose slits exaggerated for effect.

<You smell... adequately prepared,> he says.

I don't know what he calls his cock. It only barely fits the definition of a phallus at all, given that it's really more like three long tongues that tuck themselves away within a Y-shaped slit that's almost always hidden by fur, and curl and unfurl when in use. See, as I learned the first time we fucked as Andalites, male and female aren't determined or defined by genitals or gonads, but by a combination of coloration and tail blade size and shape. Every Andalite has similar equipment, with the tendrils and the slitted opening and the ability to conceive and carry a child, if they choose to. Yeah, they opt into pregnancy, fertility, all of that. Forget morphing; give humans the ability to do _that_ and watch us soar!

Anyway, his cock is beginning to reach out of its slit, moving, searching, eagerly waiting for another set of genitals to get tangled up with and slip into and out of in a truly vulgar imitation of french kissing.

I don't know if there's anything resembling a sense of taste with Andalite genitals, despite having used them before, because it's such an alien experience. Pun intended. But according to Ax, it's enough that one can tell the differences between sexual partners by only sensory input from the genitals.

I reach out toward his cock, then pause. "May I?"

His cock tendrils reach out more and swipe against my palm, curling and pulling my hand closer to his opened slit. I rub and finger him, letting him pull my fingertips into him while one tendril wraps around my wrist.

"Fuck, Ax, you're so fucking hot. I can't believe you've turned me into such a perv."

<I fail to see perversion in appreciation of the body of one's spouse,> Ax says.

"Fair point," I admit. "Now how about we get me on top of those funky alien tentacle cocks of yours and I can ride you properly?"

<It is my understanding that tentacles are defined by...>

I interrupt him by doing what I had just proposed, straddling his waist and rubbing myself on him.

"Less science," I say, "more fucking your husband."

<Very well, sir,> Ax says.

One tendril pushes inside me, more than slick enough to do the job, even if I hadn't been absurdly ready for it. Another curls around and flicks tantalizing strokes against my cock. The third trails long strokes all over, almost like it's looking for a tendril of mine to wind itself around.

"Hands," I request.

He reaches up for me, already showing signs of bliss. I press sloppy, wet, open-mouth kisses against his palm, along his fingers, between his knuckles.

"I love you," I whisper against his fingers.

<I love you,> Ax replies.

I suck three of his fingers into my mouth, fellating them, taking them in as far as I can, glad that I spent so much of my young adulthood training myself out of a gag reflex.

<Marco-kala,> Ax says, the endearment full to the brim with desire and satisfaction.

"Ax," I moan once his fingers are out of my mouth. "Do you want... my Andalite morph?"

<I want _you_ ,> he replies, and that single pronoun is full of meaning: every inch of me, in every form, in every way, in every configuration; me, just as I am, right now, right here, always; me, now, forever, immediately.

"Fuck me, _Amor_ ," I whisper. "Hard."

He brings his saliva-slick fingers to my cock, touching me like I'm the most complex computer terminal ever imagined, rubbing and pinching and twisting in all the most gentle, most invigorating, most sanity-destroying ways. His cock pushes fully into me, each tendril stroking and probing and filling me up obscenely. I can't tell how quiet or how loud I'm being, because nothing exists beyond him and how he's making me feel.

His responses fill my mind, cranking my pleasure up exponentially, like the most perfect feedback loop of pleasure. I don't know how many times I climax, whether it's one long orgasm that ebbs and swells, or whether it's dozens of distinct explosions, like a star that collapses and explodes over and over.

Eventually, I can't keep myself upright, and Ax's hands both take to my back, stroking up and down, drawing lines and spirals and, for all I know, quantum equations on my skin as we both come gradually down. Back to reality, not like a meteorite, but like a bird of prey, gradually descending, occasionally catching an updraft. I pant and tremble against his torso, feeling his chest rise and fall under me. I don't know how he gets enough air into him to sustain that big body of his, since I can't seem to draw in enough oxygen for my own body, and I have a mouth, currently hanging open, dry as a desert, begging for a drink of water, if only I could drink while panting and heaving like a exhausted dog after a run on the beach.

"I love you," I whisper.

<You are the gravitational center of my life,> Ax says. It feels like a declaration of love, even though it sounds like a bad physicist's Valentine card.

I eventually regain enough oxygen in my limbs to prop myself up long enough to turn my face to Ax's chest and kiss him, probably over one of his hearts.

"I love you," I say again.

I can feel his amusement, even though he doesn't really say anything.

"Listen, English doesn't have enough ways to say it!" I complain in good humor.

<English has very many failings,> Ax agrees.

"Okay, you know what?"

I pull myself away from him enough that I can begin morphing. I intend to morph all the way to Andalite, maybe to pay him back, but the important part is gaining thought-speech.

<I love you,> I say to him, filling it with every bit of nuance that English, and every other spoken language I'm aware of, lacks.

Ax smiles, watching me as I morph, even though it probably looks just as horrifying as every other morph does, since I'm no Cassie.

<I know,> he replies.

I touch my forehead to his, closing my main eyes, studying the ultraviolet striping along Ax's body with my new stalk eyes. <I never should have shown you Star Wars.>

Ax laughs in my mind and takes my hand in his as my fingers increase in number to match his.

<I love you too, husband.>

I reach forward with my tail, and hook my blade with his. I close my stalk eyes.

<Have you decided on what to do next?> Ax inquires.

I laugh into his mind. <Let's go for a run, first of all. Then we can decide what we feel like doing next.>

<Oh, thank you,> Ax says, <I am _very_ hungry.>

I laugh more and let him stand up first so he can help me to my feet. Or hooves. Or... whatever.

<Lead the way, Ax-man,> I say.

He shifts his stance, then bounds away, leaping up and out of our scoop, tail blade flashing in the sunlight.

I turn off the radio, and then give chase.

I'll pay him back after breakfast.


End file.
